Passion in the Workplace

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She doesn't have any passion left for her job; he does
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Chicklet
Chicklet
230 Followers

I pushed the note over the desk, closer to his reclining form. He looked through half closed, lazy eyes and raised an eyebrow slightly.

“What’s this?”

“Notice. I’m leaving in two weeks.”

“Ah, Michelle. Why would you want to do that?”

The inevitable guilt trip. I shrugged my shoulders, avoiding contact with his blue eyes.

“I’ve lost the passion I had for this job. Too many hours put in, too little gotten out. I just don’t want to do it anymore.”

“But we pay you well. Where else are you going to get this salary? Your own desk? Your own hours? Where else are you going to be this happy?”

“I don’t have any passion for it, Zack, I just can’t do it anymore.”

The conversation should have ended there. It was so much easier during the rehearsal I’d given myself in front of my mirror this morning. “I’m leaving, goodbye,” I’d said to my reflection. But Zachary Quinn hadn’t been in my bathroom. He was here, his big, broad form relaxing in his chair, looking up at me through the thickest lashes I’d ever seen on a grown man, a half smirk on his lips, as though telling me he didn’t believe a word I was saying. I swallowed, wishing that he were less attractive, less distracting, less menacing.

“Two weeks, Zack, then I’m out of here.”

With cat like quickness he sprang from that reclined position. I’d never seen the man move so fast in my life. Every meeting I’d had with him he had been at ease, unwound, relaxed. He’d watched proceedings as if bored, sleepy, watching a rerun of a television show. Though it was obvious he worked out, and regularly, I’d never expected him to be able to get on his feet and breach a distance so quickly.

“I don’t think you know what you’re talking about, Michelle,” he said into my ear. His voice was almost a whisper, almost a threat. His breath was hot against my flesh, his body pinning mine, making me feel small. Startled, I felt myself shrinking away from him, as though I was something tiny afraid of being crushed.

“Seriously, Zack.”

His hand moved up my arm, his fingers locking around the small bicep. Leaning in again, he breathed heavily into my ear, his lips parting, and with a hot movement he touched my lobe with his tongue.

“No passion in the job, Michelle?” His tongue traced the shape of my sensitive organ, the snake-like tip slithering its way up to the cartilage. “No passion in the office?” His big body began to push against mine, his pelvic area coming alive and grinding into my hips. “Not even a little bit?”

A strange feeling was flooding my body, blood pumping faster than ever before. My chest heaved against his as he pushed himself closer to me, threatening to consume me with his larger form. His hands gripped my arms tightly, almost hurting me, but not quite. With one muscular leg he shifted my long, more slender limbs apart, moving his trouser clad thigh between mine, grinding his leg into my crotch. I whimpered, moaned, and melted.

“No passion, Michelle?” he groaned again, coming down on my neck with his hot mouth, nipping and licking and sucking on the flesh. “No passion?”

My crotch burned with heat, both from the friction of his leg and the desire mounting inside me. I could feel my juices gathering, dripping through my body like melting butter to the warm crux of my sex, and I tightened my legs around his large, invading leg under my body. I was melting against him, putty in his hands as he squeezed my arms again, holding me upright as well as to him. My head fell back as far as it could go, my mouth opening in silent cry for mercy and pleasure, my eyes squeezed tight as I felt his leg grind again against my crotch.

“I think that there’s plenty of passion in this job, Michelle,” he whispered throatily, his mouth moving from my neck up underneath my chin, nipping the sensitive flesh there. “I think there’s passion in everything, if you give it time.” He kept sucking, nipping, and tickling his way to the sides of my mouth, lapping there as if he were licking a tasty treat. “I think you should stay, and find what passion you can right here.”

Zack lifted his mouth off my body, making me whimper, cold, wanting more. He pulled his leg out from between mine, leaving me empty, weightless. He let go of my arms and I had to struggle to stay on my feet, my knees weak.

“Two weeks?” he asked, looking down at my shaking form.

“I could stay longer…” I panted, looking up at him in awe.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Authors Note: Hey! Thanks for reading my work, and I appreciate any and all feedback. Please remember to vote, as it is the only way I can tell how I'm improving (or slipping further into the masses of destruction...hrm...) Keep reading! --Chicklet

Chicklet
Chicklet
230 Followers
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